


Creep

by The Tinglenator (Misha_McCarthy)



Series: Supernatural One-Shots [16]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Azazel's Special Children (Supernatural), Cold Weather, Dead John Winchester, Drabble, Emotional Hurt, Emotionally Hurt Sam Winchester, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, John Winchester and Sam Winchester Fight, One Shot, POV Male Character, POV Sam Winchester, Short One Shot, Worried Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:28:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26374996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Misha_McCarthy/pseuds/The%20Tinglenator
Summary: John Winchester knew a lot about what his son was destined to become. This leaves Sam to wonder if they really had mended their relationship before his dad died, or if John only ever saw a monster. One-shot.
Relationships: John Winchester & Sam Winchester
Series: Supernatural One-Shots [16]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1877215
Kudos: 9





	Creep

Lafayette, Indiana.

In the afternoon.

At some park.

x

It hadn't been that long since Sam thought about Yellow Eyes, but then again, it felt like forever. Yellow Eyes was everything- everything _wrong_. He was a demon, something that killed for the enjoyment, the sport, the thrill. He was the creature that had burned Jess and propelled him into the hunting life again- a life he didn't want to live. Yellow Eyes was the thing that had killed his mom, destroyed his dad, wreaked havoc on his family, and ruined his fantasies of stability.

Yellow Eyes was hunting.

Yellow Eyes was his dad.

Sam didn't like letting his mind dwell on those topics. It never did him any good, just as it wasn't doing him any good now. He had left with barely a word of goodbye to Mr. Carey and fled to this park, where the trees and shadows grew tall, and the few joggers that came into this area made their way out quickly. It was cold, though no breeze could make it past the first rows of trees. On a bench by the asphalt somewhere along the trail, Sam sat underdressed, unmoving, wishing the frost would become so cold that he wouldn't be able to think anymore.

But it never quite reached that point. His mind was kept harshly awake by the cool atmosphere. It was probably processing faster than if he'd gone back to the motel and blocked out all light and sound with a pillow, but he couldn't leave. Each time he considered it his legs never moved. Returning to the motel meant being surrounded by hunting equipment, the hunting atmosphere. He would have to get up at some point, and when he did, boom- there it would be, staring at him from a few feet away. Sam wanted to relish the fresh air on his meander back. He imagined his entire mindset snapping in time with the lock to the door. As soon as he finished clicking the key into place, his thoughts would enter ‘hunting mode’. He didn't want to hunt, not really. Every time he woke up and his older brother was just _there_ , ready to hit the road again to God-knows-where only so that they might risk their lives again, he could hear Jess' voice, could feel her smooth hands running up along his arms, down his chest. Every time he went out for a jog, he could pretend that Dean wasn't waiting for him back at the motel, with five or six quips prepared and a long list of places and people they still had to check out, with the possibility of each person wanting their head and each place housing demons, demigods, or anything of the sort.

And, while he sat here on this freezing-ass bench with only occasional footfalls and his chattering teeth to listen to, he could pretend that everything was great because he was still taking classes and still about to get that interview, because he could _still_ pursue a legal job in the law….

If he was still at Stanford, Dean wouldn't be with him. If Dean wasn’t with him, he wouldn't- and had no reason to- try to save or kill him.

That was really all it came down to, wasn't it? Their dad hadn't asked Sam to try and save himself. He hadn't explained the situation to either of them. Sam might never have known that he could do anything bad. He certainly wasn't trying to destroy the universe or whatever it was that made him so evil. Now that he had some information, all he needed was a bit more. If he knew what was supposed to turn him to the dark side- or, y'know, whatever- they could stop it. And everything would be just fine.

Their dad hadn't really wanted them to stop it, did he? Dad was so similar to Dean. They weren't focused on finding out more information, they intended to lay low until they could get revenge or score credit for managing a convenient hunt. They never wanted to address the elephant in the room and kept it to themselves as much as possible. Well, he was going to address that elephant. He was going to scream at it until his throat was raw.

In a pocket, Sam's phone vibrated. That had to be the third time Dean called in a short while. He didn't want to face Dean right now, while he was looking for more Special Children linked to Yellow Eyes. How was he going to explain all those newspaper clippings on Scott's wall? How could he tell his older brother that, for the first time, he sort of felt connected to people? He'd already been branded a freak by his brother. Dean's eyes told him the whole picture. Watch out for your younger brother, because he's insane. Take care of your little brother because he's unstable.

Is that really what his dad had thought of him?

Their dad had avoided them for so long- Dean, of course, less so. When they'd hugged again and worked together on a case, when his dad had asked to end the arguing in the hospital, he'd thought it had to have been caused by a miscommunication neither of them could get past- not even with Dean's perpetual attempts at helping. But every time someone jogged past and Sam found himself reconsidering his jumbled mess of thoughts, the idea that John had always known would never leave him. He’d known about Sam’s power. He’d known he was a freak. He hadn't trusted his own son to do the right thing, but he'd had the balls to say, "You're right."

" _... my only thought was that you were gonna be alone. Vulnerable."_

In the motel room, alone with his old man, Sam had assumed it meant that Yellow Eyes might come after him, too. But his dad had already known that wasn't the case. The demon wouldn't hurt one of his puppets, not really. His dad must have known about the whole thing while, or even _before_ he left for Stanford. Maybe that's why the fight had gotten so ugly- all their dad saw was this monster in front of him slowly growing worse and worse, leaving the family so that he could be corrupted. His dad knew about the Special Children and some master plan. In fact, he probably knew more before his death than they knew now.

And to think he and Dad had gotten along after all.

* * *

**A/N:**

Happy Supernatural Day, everyone!


End file.
